He had changed
by drowning goldfish
Summary: JL She wanted him and he wanted her, and it was all that should have mattered, but for some reason it wasn’t and she felt like nothing was ever in her control.
1. Chapter 1

He had changed. He didn't smile very easily or laugh very loudly anymore. He was almost always partners with Remus. He stuck to himself mostly. He didn't seek anyone out anymore than he had to.

She had thought at first that he would get over whatever it was rather quickly, but he had been like this since the beginning of November, and now, coming on the beginning of March, she was not so sure. He was… different.

…

He walked along the hall with time to kill before class and nothing to do. There had been a time when he was perpetually late for everything, the fifteen minutes of a passing period always pregnant with possibility. No rest for the wicked and all that.

He turned along the third floor corridor on the west wing. It was his favorite hallway of the castle. Giant suits of armor lined one side of the wall, and could quite well hide a person or two standing between the statues. The other wall was lined with ceiling to floor windows that looked out over the Quidditch pitch. He liked to disillusion himself on occasion and hide there, staring out over the green fields in the afternoon sun.

He couldn't today though – too many people were using the hall. In fact, several paces ahead of him, Serveus Snape swept along. When he dropped a book without notice, James sighed and picked it up, calling out, "Snape?"

The other boy shot around with his wand raised, but James just patiently held out the book. "You dropped this," he said. Serveus eyed the article distastefully.

"And what curse did you decide to put on it Potter?" Serveus bit out. James just shook his head and forced the book into the boy's hands, before beginning to brush past him. James heard the hex and felt the force of the magic exploding from Severus's wand and knew he didn't have time to block it. He ducked, and heard a startled student cry out as it hit. He grabbed his wand and spun around, shouting, "Immobilous! Expelliarimus!"

Serveus froze and James caught his wand before turning back around. Lily Evans had obviously been knocked backwards by the blow, her books taking the brunt of the curse, a few hairs singed.

"I know," James said. "No dueling in the halls." He came forward, and whispered words much more advanced than the simple repair charm and Lily watched, amazed, as her books began to re-grow their pages and covers. He gathered them up, and looked to her.

She watched as, for a moment, his gaze lingered on her legs. Her skirt, in her fall, had hitched to mid-thigh, and she quickly stood, allowing the garment to fall back to its regulation length just below her knees. He looked up at her for a moment, an unreadable expression in his eyes, before standing. She tried to regain a composed stature and reached for her books, but he did not hold them out to her.

"Come on," he said. "I'll walk you to class."

As they passed by Serveus, James replaced his wand in his hand without comment. The look of absolute hatred on Severus's frozen face was matched not with an equal look, but with one of polite resentment from James – a rare expression these days because it was an expression at all from the passive boy.

The walk to class was silent, and Lily felt awkward without having her books to hold over her chest. She was rather embarrassed by how much it had grown during the past year. She had always been rather flat-chested and had not minded, but now it seemed, her female form was making itself known and the attention she received as a result made her uncomfortable.

She stood a little closer to James as they walked by a group of seventh year boys, several of whom decided to turn their heads as they walked by. James glowered darkly at them, turning his own head, until they looked away, and even though it wasn't his place to do such a thing, she was grateful.

When James looked at her, she was of course embarrassed, but he had always looked at her like that, even when there was nothing to see, and so it did not bother her in the way it did when other boys stared. Other boys made her feel angry and disgusted, but also slightly dirty and ashamed of her body. James just made her feel pretty.

She shook her head and tried not to blush at the thoughts. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. His face had grown into strong angular lines that were quite attractive, but he didn't look happy so much anymore, and it changed his face, not being stretched into a smile. She found she rather liked his smiling face more, though she never would have thought she'd miss his annoying grin.

Her eyes traveled down to his hands. When had they become that of a man? She wasn't sure when they had changed from the cold clammy tiny ones to his large square long warm ones, only that they made hers look delicate in comparison.

He glanced over at her, and she realized he had felt her watching him. His eyes had changed as well. There was a hidden spark always twinkling behind his eyes that had slipped away somehow and only came out on rare occasions.

This, more than anything else, suddenly made her feel older, because he had grown up, and she was not far behind. Part of her wanted to stomp her feet and demand that her body stop, and another part of her, a very secret part of her, wanted to grow up for no other reason than she wanted to match him as she did in every other aspect of their lives.

She looked away from his deep gaze and for the rest of the walk looked anywhere else but at him. He opened the door and held it for her as she walked in. The small scuffle in the hall meant that they were not the first to arrive, nor were they the last. He settled her books on her normal desk, and went and sat with Remus who was reading a book. Lily watched as he just sat there, waiting for class to start and not trying to distract Remus. It was so…un-James. He had changed.

…

AN: I think this was just a little one-shot. I :heart: **reviews**.


	2. Chapter 2

He had stopped asking her out. She could not tell why she thought this thought when she had, only that halfway through her fourth bite of treacle tart she had paused to look at him and realized that he no longer asked her out.

She wondered if it was because he was no longer interested. He did not, after all, stare much at her anymore. He was too busy paying attention in classes now. Maybe he didn't find her very attractive. Tastes change.

She wasn't nearly as intimidating as before, she thought. They were occasionally partners in class now and again and they interacted quite normally with one another. Maybe her mystique was gone as well. Maybe he thought she wasn't worth all of the trouble. Maybe he finally got the hint.

……………

"What?" he asked, not looking up from his book. They were sitting in the library, and as it was rather full, they were sharing the same table.

"Hmm?" she mused. "I didn't say anything."

"I know you didn't say anything. That's the problem. Whatever it is you're thinking, just say it already."

She paused for a moment, unsure if she wanted to answer, and he stopped his reading and looked up at her. "Well?" he asked with the tone of infinite patience.

"You don't ask me out anymore," she said, and it was almost accusatory. He raised an eyebrow, as if not sure how to respond. "Do you _want_ to go out with me?" she asked, when it was obvious an answer wasn't forthcoming.

He frowned. "Why are you asking? Trying to get out of going with someone else or something?"

"No," she said sourly. "I was just curious is all."

"Listen, there's no way I can answer that. If I say no and you want the answer to be yes because you want to go out, then I'm still the same prat I always was, only now I'm worse because it'll make you feel bad. If I say yes and you want the answer to be no, then I'm still the same prat I always was, only now I'm worse because I haven't gotten over you yet. If I say no and you want the answer to be no, then there was no point in asking."

"Or," she said, "You could say yes and I could want you to say yes, and then for once, everything would be different."

"Things are already different. I'm not going to risk it on a one in four chance that I get what I want when I'm quite content with what I have."

"Oh," she said, slightly dejected. It was better this way, though, she rationalized. This way, she thought, they could keep on the steady path toward friendship, and leave behind the past. So then why did she not want to be his friend? She wanted to get mad at him and she wanted him to get mad at her. Anything other than his quiet. Anything other than his lost looks. Anything other than this imposter James.

But he had changed. This was not an imposter. It was him. Really. And she really did like this him, even with his strange looks and silent nature. She thought about him all of the time when he was not around, little half-thoughts about his smile and laugh and how if she could make him smile and laugh she would feel validated somehow, as if she was better and more valued than others.

But this new him gave her no outlet to explore the fact that she was female and he was male. The old him was obsessed with this fact, and while it was something she detested about him, now she almost wished for something of the old him to surface, if only for a few moments, so _she_ was not the one acting as though this fact was more important than it really was. That was the problem, of course. While she liked this new James because he was…adult, she hated him for it as well, because it only showed all of the ways that she wasn't.

She wondered if he ever thought about kissing her. She wondered if he ever looked at her lips and desperately wanted to. He was back to reading his book and so missed her flush face. She wanted him to want her. If he did not, then it made her own affections stupid and pointless. If he did though, she could go back to ignoring him. She wondered if this was how he felt before he had gotten over her.

It was ridiculous, she thought, furious with herself as she focused back on her own reading. She would put it out of her mind. It didn't matter. It didn't matter at all.

James shifted in his seat almost restlessly and a thousand thoughts ran through her head. Maybe he was tired of reading and she should engage him in conversation about something he enjoyed, like Quidditch. Maybe she should suggest a walk around the lake or a trip down to the kitchens for a snack. Maybe she could tell a joke or funny story that he would like.

She shook her head. She wasn't funny and it was still cold outside this time of year and supper was coming up in quick order and while she enjoyed a good game as much as the next person, she didn't really have much to say in the way of sports. She sighed.

"Want to head back to the tower then since you can't seem to focus?" he asked, and while the words could have been patronizing, his tone wasn't anything but considerate.

She wanted to say of course not, she was just being silly, she wanted to study some more, but instead the words, "Are you ready?" slipped out instead.

"No, but you can head up without me," he answered.

It wasn't a clear dismissal, but it was close. She was bothering him, distracting him, _annoy_ing him. She felt stupid for wanting to stay if he was staying, and it came out in her tone. "Fine," she said, slightly sharp.

She packed up her things quickly, but he seemed to sense her frustration and stopped her. "Save me a seat at dinner, would you?" he asked kindly. "I might be a bit still and I have it on good authority we're having Shepard's pie tonight."

"Sure," she said almost breathlessly. The hand that had caught her wrist seemed to be the only thing she could clearly think about, other than he wanted to sit with her at dinner. She shook off the smile that had slipped on her face as she walked out of the library and into the hall. He probably just wanted to talk about class anyway, she thought.

**AN:** so apparently not a one-shot. Will be updated randomly. Time will pass between chapters. Because I am too lazy to write the intermediate periods of interest. That is what bc is for.

Please **review**


	3. Chapter 3

"Uh uh," he said, his fingers slipping beneath the peel of the orange.

"No," he said again, this time more sharply as he continued peeling in one continuous strand.

"Lily, I mean it, get your own," he said, but a smile had formed on his lips as he said it.

"Fine," he said as he finished, breaking apart the slices of orange. "You can have one sliver."

"That's two pieces," he said accusingly, as though she had not noticed she had taken both. "That's a whole half!" he cried a moment later.

"You're evil," he said finally.

She watched the juice drip down his chin and had a desperate urge to lick it off his face. She wondered what he would say then about wanting to be friends. He would probably think she was gross. Liking someone, she realized, made you think incredibly weird thoughts. His arm came up a moment later to wipe it away when he saw her staring.

She closed her eyes and lie back down beneath the shade of the tree, conveniently using James's leg for her pillow, sucking on a slice of sweet and tangy orange that he had nicked from the kitchens that morning. Her hands quickly became sticky with juice, but she didn't mind.

One of his hands came down to run through her hair and she marveled at how delicate she felt in his hands. She loved that feeling. He wasn't at all afraid of anything she could do. It bothered her sometimes, but just now, she craved that feeling, and nuzzled her head into his hand, needing to know that he cared.

"You know, I thought studying with you meant I'd actually have to work, but turns out I slack off more with you than with the boys," he told her.

She frowned softly, conscious suddenly of their textbooks on the ground, entirely unopened. "Shush," she said. "It's nice and sunny and warm and who knows when the next time we'll have the lake all to ourselves like this?"

She opened her eyes to look at him, but he had turned to stare out over the water. "You're right. This is much better than Hogsmeade."

"You're smiling," she exclaimed. He looked down at her, and raised an eyebrow, but she was upset to see that his smile had fallen a bit. She sat up. "You don't smile all that often anymore."

"Does that bother you?" he asked, and he seemed amused, but she did not understand why.

"Yes," she said seriously.

He snorted and his smile fell away entirely. "Well I'll do my best to work on that then," he said sarcastically, pulling up his legs, his hands grabbing for one of his books.

"You should," she said, grabbing the book with her hand to stop him from ignoring her. He glared at her and pulled the book from her grasp.

"I don't like you anymore," she said, not even realizing she had said the words until they had registered in his eyes. The words were not teasing; they were entirely serious. "I don't like the way you just…_accept_ everything now."

"You didn't like me to begin with," he said sharply, "so I don't know what's changed."

She felt hurt by that comment, but it was true. "You're being a jerk," she said, and he sighed.

"I know," he said, not looking at her. "I'm sorry."

"And?" she prompted.

"And what?" he asked confused. "And I'll never do it again?"

It was her turn to snort. "Yeah right, James. I meant, and what are you going to do to make it up to me?"

"Well, I did already give you _half_ of my orange," he said, considering.

"There's a difference between giving and letting me take, and besides, you can't let me take something of yours in advance of offending me. That's entirely ridiculous."

"I dunno. I think it sounds like prudent planning to me," he said, not able to keep the amusement from his voice now.

She tried to bite back her grin, but his eyes were twinkling at her even if his lips weren't so much as twitching, and it had been a long time since she had seen it.

"I think you should take me to Hogsmeade for a butterbeer next go 'round," she declared.

"Isn't that at the end of May?" he asked, a crease in his brow.

"We shouldn't miss the last one," she said, but then reconsidered. "Unless you've plans already."

She'd given him an out. She'd been doing that a lot lately, as though testing whether he really wanted to spend time with her. She was always elated when he did, feeling as if he was somehow trying to tell her that she was still very important to him. When he took the out and she made other plans, in the back of her mind she always knew that she would be having a much better time if he were present. He excited her, just his presence, even when he was in one of his moods, like now.

There appeared to be an almost equal amount of each, as though he did not want to send her a clear message about his feelings for her. It frustrated her beyond measure, but though it angered her, she did not dare try to ask him again how he felt for her.

"The boys and I have some plans, but I don't think we were planning to wait that long to visit Hogsmeade again. Either way, we could meet up at some point, I'm sure."

She was not sure in any way how to read this statement. Was he saying this casually so that he could back out later? Was the only reason he was somewhat agreeing because he felt guilty for acting mean? Was he trying to tell her that he did in fact have other plans, but was willing to change them in order to spend time with her? Or was he saying they could meet up because he did not want her to get the impression that he was all that interested in going to Hogsmeade _with_ her?

It was not the first time she wished she could ask him clearly what in the world he really felt for her. He sent her a thousand mixed signals, none of which she knew how to read or which ones to pay attention to.

When they had agreed to study together, he hadn't told his friends that it was with her, only with 'someone'. He treated her like she was his friend when it was just them, but she didn't know if he generally downplayed their relationship to other people.

On their hike up to this spot he had offered his hands several times to help her up places, though she could have probably done fine on her own. He treated her like a lady, but she didn't know if this was because he was mature.

His eyes occasionally glanced down to her chest or bum when she was not looking at him directly, and sometimes, even when she was. He looked at her like there was something to see, but she didn't know if it was just habit.

His actions were so passive-aggressive she wanted to slap him until he was direct with her. She turned away from him and sighed, missing his frown.

"No, that's alright. I'm sure I'll think of something else," she said, picking up her text book finally.

"Lily," he began, but she had expected his protest, if only because it was the polite thing to do, and she cut him off.

"You should spend it with your friends, and I should with mine," she said in a calm voice, made calm only by the fact that she had begun flipping through the pages of her book and not looking him in the eye. How's _that_ for passive-aggressive, she thought.

"I wouldn't have said I'd do it if I didn't mean it," he said seriously, and that display of the all-or-nothing James she knew caused her eyes to flicker up to his. It was a mistake. "And what do you mean I should spend it with my friends and you with yours? Aren't we friends? Don't we spend time together?"

"Studying," she said. "Or talking about classes or homework or about NEWTS and career plans and every other boring thing on the face of this planet except anything that would form a friendship James! I haven't learned anything about you that matters. And you don't know anything about me that matters."

His eyes were dark and unreadable. "That isn't true," he said, but she didn't say anything, daring him to prove his point. "You don't mean that," he said instead.

"I do," she said.

"You're wrong," he said, shaking his head.

"Prove it," she said.

"Think of your deepest, darkest secret James. The one thing you would take to your grave. Something you would never tell a living soul, the kind of thing you would never be able to say, but if someone _knew_ you, they would know. Got something?" she asked, but could tell by the way his face had turned an ashen white that he did. "Do you think I know it? Would you tell me? Right now James? Would you tell me right now?"

He was silent. "That's what I thought," she said. "What about your second, James? Your third? Would you even be able to tell me your third darkest secret?"

She felt tears burn at the back of her eyes and didn't know why. She hated how she felt, hated how she was treating him, but she didn't want to stop, not yet. All she knew was that she either wanted to be the closest to his heart or the farthest from it.

She wanted him to feel the distance between them that she felt at every moment, but she had forgotten something very important. He had already known that distance, and if she finally wanted it, then he would force her to be so close it would hurt.

"The reason I'm Head Boy is because I used an illegal curse to stop Sirius from killing Snape at the end of sixth year. I watched my mother die when I was three and believed my father when he said she had just gone to sleep – believed it for six years. Sometimes at night I think about you and touch myself. I'd use the killing curse if anyone came after me or my family or my friends. I'm an illegal animagus. When I jumped off the Astronomy Tower in third year, I wasn't practicing flying and it wasn't an accident. I have a reoccurring dream on rare occasions where I'm being strangled by a man in a black cloak and I wake up having pissed myself. I have a tattoo of a griffin on my back left shoulder and a phoenix on my back right shoulder. I drink too much firewhiskey. I'd stop my destructive habits if anyone ever asked me to. I cheated off of Remus in my third year exams. The reason I liked you so much in fourth and fifth year was because I wanted to be as strong as you were. I feel more comfortable alone in the Forbidden Forest than alone in a room with my father. I'm terrified I'm going to fuck up NEWTs and I won't do anything with my life."

All of this was said forcefully, without pause, and then, just as quickly he said, "Happy now?"

She reeled from all of these confessions laid open and bare before her. His face was flushed and he could not look her in the eye. When he abruptly stood, collected his things, and took off, she couldn't even move her head to watch him go.

Apparently, he still cared about her.


	4. Chapter 4

She shifted her feet, hesitating and at the same time knowing that she was going to go over. She studied him. All the time, it felt like. Ever since he had told her every deep thing about him, she had been unable to look at his form and not want to touch him.

He was slouched slightly on the couch, his tie a little loose, his sleeves messily rolled. She sat down and fixed her skirt, but he was concentrating on what he was reading and did not even notice she had sat down.

She felt a little put out at this, but wasn't quite sure what to say, so she angled herself closer to him and made a soft restless noise. Her knees fell into his periphery vision and he looked up. His shoulders tensed at recognizing her, but his face gave away nothing.

"Hi," she said, trying to feel less awkward, but he didn't reply and it only multiplied the feeling. "I wanted to talk with you."

He didn't move, didn't even shift the book from his lap, only gave a slight twitch of his eyebrow to show that he was listening. Somehow, even though his eyes were on her face and they were in a room filled with other people, she felt self-conscious about her body and how she looked to him. She sucked in her stomach a little and sat a bit straighter, relaxing her posture and arching her chest some. If he noticed, he did not show it. If anything, this only made her feel more uncomfortable with herself.

She looked down at the hands in her lap. "James," she began, but she didn't really have anything to say. She thought about telling him her secrets, but they weren't anything like his. She thought she might reassure him that she wouldn't tell anyone, but he had to know that already, or else he didn't really care who knew.

She wanted to be with him again, even if it meant just being friends, because she didn't like not being around him at all. She had been so stupid for trying to push him away, and she wasn't sure she had ended up hurting him more than she hurt herself. The worst of it was she didn't know how to fix what was wrong.

"Well as enlightening as this is," he said in a dry drawl, "I really do have to read this before class."

He turned his head back down to his book. She couldn't believe how quickly hot tears sprang into her eyes. "James," she said again but he didn't turn. She was so frustrated with him and how he was treating her. He was so distant and he was sitting so close. She reached out her hand to touch his, and he recoiled in surprise. She quickly took her hand back and found herself choking on air, her throat too tight to get it into her lungs.

She turned to stand and leave as fast as possible, but his hand was suddenly on her wrist, his thumb rubbing at the sensitive flesh of her hand and pulling her to sit back down.

"You don't even know why I'm mad at you, do you?" he said, but there wasn't any anger in his voice, only a resigned tone. It didn't really sound like a question, but he didn't say anything else. He still wasn't looking at her, but her eyes were riveted to his face, as if through examination alone she could determine whether or not he could forgive her.

"Of course I do," she said, because she finally had something to say. "I was being stupid and I forced you to tell me things that you didn't—"

"I wanted you to know those things," he said, cutting her off. "And you weren't being stupid. I want you close to me, Lily. I want you closer than is safe. But I want you further away too. I was angry because you finally want me, and all I can think about is pushing you away."

"Why?" she asked, half desperate to know and half terrified to find out.

"Because you're really important to me, and I'm not all that good for you. I get angry too easily, and I think about you in ways I shouldn't, and I'm never going to be any good at talking about my feelings."

"What if I don't care?" she said. "What if I don't care about any of that?"

His hand tightened on her wrist. Her heart tightened in her chest.

"It doesn't matter," he said.

She wanted him and he wanted her, and it was all that should have mattered, but for some reason it wasn't and she felt like nothing was ever in her control.

She looked around at the people around her before leaning in close to his ear. "I don't want you to drink so much, and no more tattoos unless you ask first. You arn't allowed in the Forbidden Forest alone, and I don't care what reason you think you have, you're never ever _ever_ allowed to try and kill yourself again. You're going to study hard and you're going to graduate with honors. You're going to spend the rest of the year trying to get me to sleep with you and I'm going to refuse and you are just going to have to deal with it until I'm ready. And…if you spend holidays with me then you won't have to see your father. Be with me James."

He finally turned to look at her and his eyes seemed to draw her in. He kissed her hard, and her mind reeled, all thought knocked from her mind. His tongue slipped in her mouth almost immediately, and almost before she could think if she even wanted him there he was languidly sucking and massaging her own tongue playfully. She moaned softly at how aggressive he was, her face flushed, but she didn't care who was watching. He wanted her, deep down inside him, and he was so afraid, but then so was she because he was so much more than she had ever judged him to be.

His hands wrapped around her and though they were gentle, they were strong and overpowered her until he had pulled her on top of him. He pulled her arms up around his neck and he settled his at her hips, his fingers stroking her skin through the fabric of her shirt. She didn't think he was ever going to let up on his assault of her mouth, and she didn't really care. She thought they could spend the whole day just kissing one another and she would not get tired of the feeling. It sent warm chills through her, and it didn't seem fair the way he seemed to know how to control and react to her in just such a way that it touched parts of her so deep inside even she was not aware these places existed.

He pulled back and whispered, "We'll be late to class."

"Are you still mad at me?" she asked, and he smiled and gave out a huff of laughter. She had missed that look of uninhibited happiness on his handsome face and she leaned in again to kiss him.

"No," he said softly in her ear. "I've changed."

**AN:** done! No, really. I've written about twenty different versions of this and the more I do the more extensive the plot gets and the less time I spend on my main ficlet BC and that needs to stop because I would really like to have that one done in a year and that will never happen if I sidetrack on tangents, no matter how fun the plot bunnies are. So, done! Please **review**!


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